


a little too close (by your side)

by Squishy_TRex



Category: Mission: Impossible (Movies), Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol (2011), Mission: Impossible - Rogue Nation (2015)
Genre: And excessive sighing, Ass-kicking ladies, Banter, Established Relationship, Excessive eye-rolling, F/F, Handcuffed Together, Humor, Kissing, Romance, Sexual Tension, Teamwork makes the dream work, Trapped In A Closet, but only for a few seconds so..., furniture throwing, it's a thing, there's that too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-03-15
Packaged: 2018-05-26 23:32:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6260428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squishy_TRex/pseuds/Squishy_TRex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two highly trained IMF agents, a pair of handcuffs, and a supposedly easy mission. </p>
<p>What could go wrong?</p>
            </blockquote>





	a little too close (by your side)

“This is all your fault,” Jane hissed.

Ilsa frowned as they hurried down the hotel’s corridor.

“ _I_ didn’t have anything to do our presence being discovered prematurely. Just a bit of bad timing,” she responded.

Jane rolled her eyes.

“I’m not talking about _that,_ ” she said, her tone reaching new heights of exasperation. “I’m talking about _this.”_

She lifted their joined hands dramatically, the handcuff chains clinking at the motion.

Ilsa eyed Jane out of the corner of her eye and pursed her lips, before pulling their arms down.

“That was completely accidental.”

Jane nodded sarcastically, knowing the only thing keeping her from screaming aloud was her resolute professionalism.

“Right. Accident,” she said scathingly. “I thought the cuffs weren’t supposed to come out until after you had him alone in the hotel suite?”

“He forced my hand,” Ilsa retorted. “You were there with me, if you cared to recall.” Ilsa threw her a glare. “And, for the record, I almost had him.”

Jane managed to exhale a breathy laugh even as they picked up the pace. “Oh yeah, great job with that. He managed to get away and left us like two rookies on our first mission.”

“He won’t be getting away.” Ilsa halted suddenly at the corner, nearly causing Jane to fall over onto her. “Besides, this,” she jostled the handcuff chain, “is merely an inconvenience.” A sly smile unfurled on her face. “You could see it as practice. For…future situations.”  

Jane was starting to wonder if there was a “most eye rolls engaged during a mission” award. She had to be well on her way to breaking Brandt’s record, at this point.

“Trust me, this is practice I could’ve lived without.”

Ilsa looked over at Jane, an unreadable expression on her face. She peered around the corner and then suddenly, with one smooth motion, opened the nearby broom closet and dragged Jane inside it with her.

“What the-“ Jane started. She was cut off by two things: Ilsa’s free hand covering her mouth and Ilsa’s body pressed against hers.

A few breathless seconds passed and Jane could hear the mindless chatter of partygoers as they walked by.

When they faded out of earshot, Ilsa removed her hand, but didn’t step away.  Their bodies so close together, Jane could feel Ilsa’s heartbeat, just this side of erratic. The exertion was catching up to them and even in the darkened room, she could see the flush rising on Ilsa’s face. Without thinking, she started to lean forward, bringing her head down, hair almost brushing again Ilsa’s face as Ilsa tilted her head upwards.

Ilsa’s gaze slowly flicked between Jane’s eyes and her mouth and Jane felt her breath catch. Inwardly, she knew this was the absolute wrong time for this, but damn, she also hated wasted opportunities. Their lips came closer together and Jane let her eyes slip closed…

“We’re getting close,” Ilsa said. She backed away as far as the handcuffs would let her and, before Jane had time to breathe normally and recover from the untimely sexual tension, she was once again dragged out into the hallway.

Jane sighed the sigh of the sexually frustrated and picked up the pace to keep Ilsa, who moved with all the speed of a lithe panther, from continuously dragging her along.

“This mission was _supposed_ to be a cakewalk,” she grumbled. “Get in, one of us to distract the host, the other to make off with the intel of his nuclear facilities. Simple and easy. A break from that month long stint in St. Petersburg.”

Ilsa smirked.

“I thought you enjoyed St. Petersburg,” she said airily. Jane blushed.

“Not the point.”

Fervently trying to keep her traitorous mind to NOT think of what had almost happened in the broom closet, Jane attempted a subject change.

“How much longer until we have to check-in with Ethan and co?” she asked as they hurried across through a door into the stairwell.

“Not for another twenty-five minutes.” Ilsa paused. “Maybe twenty.”

Jane barked out a laugh.

“So we have less than half an hour to accomplish our mission. Great, just great. And we have no idea wh-“

“I know where he is,” Ilsa said confidently. “Where he was planning to go before this,” she jingled the handcuffs, pulling Jane forward enough to almost trip her, “happened.”

Jane scowled at her, though Ilsa didn’t turn her head to notice it. Both of them were still struggling to find some sort of symmetrical rhythm to their movements that didn’t involve pushing and pulling each other in opposite directions. After jerking each other around three flights of stairs, Ilsa suddenly swerved towards the exit door, nearly lifting Jane off her feet (and giving her serious doubts about her strength levels), and back into the hotel’s opulent hallways.

After looking around momentarily, Ilsa, showing courtesy for the first time that evening (Jane was _amazed)_ lightly tugged her wrist.

“This way,” she whispered. They took off to the right and kept at it until they reached the corner room, close to a window that offered an overheard view of Berlin at night.

“It’s this one, I’m sure of it,” Ilsa said, the note of triumph in her voice not going unnoticed.

Jane surveyed the, bizarrely empty area.

“What, no guards?”

Ilsa shook her head.

“They’ll be inside with him. Less conspicuous, I imagine.”

“And he thinks we’ve been dealt with by now,” Jane added.

She swapped her gaze between the closed hotel room door and Ilsa, confused edging onto her features.

“So what, are we just going to kick down the door and take down an entire room of armed men and incapacitate that asshole of a target and make off with the intel, all while handcuffed?”

Ilsa looked over at her with the small, devious grin that she wore so well.

“That’s precisely what we’re going to do.”

Jane performed an epic sigh/eye-roll combo that would have received 10/10 scores from both Brandt and Benji.

She gave a grandiose gesture towards the door.

“By all means.”

Ilsa held up a silent finger count and on “three” both of them kicked the door in.

Their surprise entrance had the advantage of actually being surprising and the five guards in the room (plus the mark) scrambled to pull out their weapons. Despite virtually tugging each other around since they’d been handcuffed, this was the one arena where they were perfectly aligned.

Without saying anything, both Jane and Ilsa rushed the closest guard, Jane swinging her chained arm to time with Ilsa’s jump so that he was gracefully incapacitated with a kick to the head. Jane turned and smoothly dropped to the ground and retrieved his gun while Ilsa used her foot to lift up and launch a small ottoman at the other closest guard readying her pistol. Her aim, as always, was perfect and the guard was sent sprawling, her head catching the edge of the nearby coffee table.

_Two down, three to go_ , Jane thought as she whipped up, gun cocked and aimed at one of the other guards across the room. She fired off two shots in quick succession, both hitting him in the left shoulder. The shots threw him off balance enough that he hit the wall and slid down, a crappy hotel painting falling and

A bullet whizzed by Ilsa’s head, alerting them that the final two guards finally had their shit together and were actually capable of firing at them. Moving in tandem, both women lunged behind the relative safety of the room’s sofa.

Breathing heavily, Jane looked over at Ilsa, who was furrowing her brow at the sofa’s plush exterior, which was currently absorbing the heavy rat-a-tat of gunfire. Then she smiled widely.

“Can you guess what I’m thinking?”

Jane sighed heavily and tossed the gun aside, cursing her luck and taste in women for about the tenth time that evening.

“On three,” she said drolly.

And with that count, both of them gripped the bottom of the sofa and lifted it. And then threw it at the remaining two guards. Who were completely unprepared to take a piece of furniture to the face.

They crashed into the wall alongside the guard Jane shot and trapped underneath the sofa’s weight.

Jane silently thanked the forces of gravity for their contribution in the scuffle.

The immediate danger having passed, both Ilsa and Jane allowed themselves to relax, bodies shaky and bone-weary after that magnificent (if unorthodox) feat of strength.

They may have been two of the strongest people on their team, but sofa throwing wasn’t exactly on the list of IMF approved takedowns. Ethan would be proud.

As they relaxed their guard for a moment, the mark, who had been cowering under the desk the entire time, attempted to make a break for the door.

This time Ilsa was the one who sighed loudly.

Jane, still thinking quick despite wanting nothing more ,stuck out her foot and sent the mark sprawling to the floor.

They both quickly dropped to the ground and wrapped the handcuffs’ chain around his neck.

Together, they pulled tight, ignoring the mark’s choked noises. Finally, after a few seconds, he slumped forward, unconscious. They both sighed (in relief, this time) and detangled themselves from his body and helped each other up.

Looking around at the utter mess they’d made of the room and the people in it, Jane couldn’t help but feel a spot of pride. Especially for the woman she made it with. Turning back to look at her, Jane’s mouth ran dry.

Ilsa was a vision, short hair mussed and more wild than usual, lips a dark red, she had probably bitten them sometime during the fight like she does whenever she’s concentrating, breath coming out in the soft, huffy pants that were usually reserved for the bedroom.  

“God, I love you,” Jane breathed out before she tugged on the handcuffs to sweep Ilsa into a kiss. She could feel Ilsa’s smile against her own and their noses bumped, drawing a quick laugh in between the sweet kisses. Ilsa pressed herself close and casually draped an arm around Jane’s neck, fingers playing with the soft hairs on the back of her neck.

Jane shivered and allowed her free hand to lightly skim down Ilsa’s side until she reached her hip and gave it a squeeze. A short gasp from Ilsa only spurred Jane on and she deftly slipped her thumb just underneath the waistband to rub soft circles at the skin there.

It really wasn’t the best place (or time) for this but after everything they’d been through tonight, they deserved a little taste of something good. _Or a lot,_ Jane thought as she gently coaxed Ilsa’s lips open, just enough to slip her tongue inside…                                                                                             

Their earpieces suddenly crackled to life, causing them to spring apart. Which resulted in immense wrist pain when they realized they were still connected.

“How’s the mission?” Ethan asked, unaware he’d just become #1 on the women’s personal hit list.          

“Accomplished,” Jane managed to say, cursing the trembling note in her voice. Ilsa gave her a self-satisfied smirk before bending down and fishing through the unconscious mark’s pockets for the handcuff keys.

“We’ll meet you at the evac point,” she said, eager to get Ethan out of her ear and Ilsa back in her arms.

“Great, we’ll be waiting.” With that, he signed off and she sighed (hopefully for the last time) in relief. A small clicking noise alerted her to the handcuffs being unlocked and she quickly freed her wrist, muttering a brief “hallelujah” at the freedom.

“You know,” Ilsa started as she removed her own wrist from the cuff. “We could hang on to these.”

Jane scoffed, raising an eyebrow while she rubbed her chafed wrist. 

“What for?”

Ilsa stepped closer to Jane, a sultry smile playing on her lips, dangling the handcuffs from one finger.

“For…future situations.”

Jane’s eyes widened.

She couldn’t drag Ilsa out of the hotel room fast enough.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is my attempt (key word there) at writing Jane Carter/Ilsa Faust because come on, they would be THE power couple. This fic is shorter than they deserve because I'm really just trying to get a handle on what I imagine their dynamic would be if they were paired together. I tried (another key word) to focus on dialogue and thought, hey, what not use a great trope to do so? 
> 
> Basically, I imagine that Jane would be forever exasperated at Ilsa "I'm so cryptic you only get to know half of the plan and whoops now I have a different plan" Faust but would still adore her cause Ilsa's a total roguish babe (Jane is aware she has A Thing for those types). 
> 
> I also tried to actually write something resembling a fight scene, still kinda ehhh on how that turned out, but hey practice is practice. 
> 
> I hope to try more of them in the future, but I have this incredible backlog of WIPs (and future fics) to work on that it might be a while.


End file.
